The Boyfriend List
by Jeanie205
Summary: Yet another woman has broken up with Bellamy, and he goes to his best friend Clarke to help him figure out why he can't make the grade on a list of good boyfriend traits. But Clarke isn't at all interested in discussing his boyfriend qualities with other women. Pure fluff from start to finish.


If Clarke hadn't drifted off on the couch with her phone planted practically on top of her ear, she never would have heard the tell-tale beep of an incoming text. But she had, and she did, so she woke just enough to blink blearily and lazily press the white bubble in the green box.

 _You up?_

Clarke snapped awake, quickly grabbing her phone. Why the hell was Bellamy texting her at...she squinted at the time...11 o'clock on a Saturday night? Why wasn't he out on his date with Echo?

Shit! Had there been an accident? Was he messaging from the ER?

She pulled herself up and her thumbs began to fly across the keyboard.

 _Am now. Everything okay?_

 _Yeah fine. Need to talk to you. Be there in a few._

What the hell? Bellamy was coming over... _now?_

Clarke stared down at her sweat-stained, paint-spattered clothing and sighed in dismay.

She'd really been in the groove that day, her brush practically racing across the canvas. So by the time she'd noticed exhaustion setting in, she'd had just enough energy to take care of her precious painting supplies, and none at all left for cleaning herself up.

 _Fuck it!_ Just because Bellamy was her best friend, and not her boyfriend, didn't mean she'd be okay with him finding her looking - and no doubt smelling - so disgusting. She flew off the couch and ran to her bedroom, hastily grabbing up some clean clothes before heading to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Which was why, when she opened the door to him a few minutes later, tendrils of still-damp hair hung down her back and clung to her cheek.

Bellamy eyed her wet head as he came into the room.

"Uh, sorry, were you just going to bed?"

"Something like that. What the hell's going on, Bellamy?"

He sighed wearily, dropping onto one end of her couch. Clarke flopped down at the other end, waiting for some sort of explanation, but instead of speaking he tossed a magazine into her lap.

She eyed it in confusion.

" _Elle_? What on earth are you doing with a copy of _Elle_?"

"Do you know how much those things weigh?" he whined. "And look at the sharp corners. She could have taken my eye out?"

Clarke sighed. If only she knew what the hell he was talking about.

" _Who_ , Bellamy? What happened?"

"Echo threw it at me!" he said, aggrieved. "Right after she broke up with me."

Clarke's heart gave a little jolt. _Stop it!_ she told herself harshly. By now, she knew damn well that no matter how many girls broke up with Bellamy, he was never going to see her as anything more than his best friend.

"I'm sorry, Bellamy." Clarke was proud of her tone, detached but with just the right amount of sympathy. "I know you must be upset."

"Upset?" He shrugged. "Not really. More like fucking pissed off. Not only did she throw the magazine at me, she accused me of being a lousy boyfriend!"

Clarke didn't think she'd ever heard him sound so affronted.

"I'm a great boyfriend," he declared. "Right, Clarke?" He shifted his body to face her fully, as though expecting immediate affirmation.

She just gaped at him. What the hell was she supposed to say to that? _No damn idea, but I'd sure love to find out?_

But she needn't have worried, because Bellamy was far more interested in airing his grievance than in hearing her response.

"Page sixty-five."

"Huh?"

"In the magazine. That's what I couldn't live up to. Some stupid list of best boyfriend qualities, and she had the balls to claim I didn't cut it! How the hell can she say that?"

As she picked up the magazine and began to flip to the requested page, Clarke realized that while she had no first-hand knowledge of Bellamy's caliber as a boyfriend, she'd always assumed that he must be great. After all, he was a wonderful best friend, so she figured his boyfriend performance would be pretty much the same.

Except... _yanno_... with the sex added in.

Clarke felt her face heating up. Ordinarily, she tried never to pair up Bellamy and sex in the same thought, especially with him sitting right next to her.

Fortunately, her fumbling fingers had finally reached page sixty-five, and she opened the magazine fully, pressing it flat across her lap to check out the offending story.

 _Making the Grade: A Quick Guide to Figuring Out if Your Guy is a Great Boyfriend_

Se looked for the author, but it seemed to be a collaboration of various staff writers. People who had probably just thrown together a bunch of stuff that sounded good.

"Did Echo, uh, want to go over the list with you? Is that why she had the magazine?"

His shoulders stiffened perceptibly.

"She started to. We were back at my place and she said she had something she wanted to talk to me about. And so she pulls out this magazine." He sighed _._ "But then..."

"Yeah?" she prompted.

"We never got all the way through it because she started accusing me of being a crap boyfriend, and I just kind of... well, I lost it."

Clarke sighed. "Bellamy... these kinds of _lists_ don't mean a thing. Everyone is different, every relationship is different..."

But he was shaking his head.

"Bullshit! No fucking way," he interrupted. "It's pretty basic stuff and I am _all_ the things on that list!"

By now, Bellamy had slid across the couch so he was sitting right next to her, and he grabbed the magazine out of her lap.

"Here," he said, pointing his finger at Number Ten in the ten-to-one countdown format, "I'll prove it to you."

Clarke was appalled. She couldn't imagine anything more painful than discussing with Bellamy Blake whether or not he was a good boyfriend. For someone else.

"You don't have to prove anything to me! We're best friends. I'm always on your side."

She hoped that would be enough to end the cnversation, but her reassurance had exactly the opposite effect.

"And what the hell does _that_ mean?" He looked, if possible, even more affronted. "That you're on my side even if I stink as a boyfriend?"

"Jesus, Bellamy! That's not what I said at all! It just means... I don't need some stupid magazine to tell me how special you are. That's all."

Bellamy's quick anger deflated in an instant and his shoulders drooped.

"Sorry, Clarke. It's just... this has made me feel really shitty, so maybe I just need to... prove it to myself, then. That that's not why everyone keeps breaking up with me."

Clarke was taken aback. _Did_ women keep breaking up with Bellamy?

She and Bellamy had become friends so gradually, gotten closer and closer so slowly, that somehow she'd hardly noticed when they began spending a lot of time just hanging out. At that point, they'd both been attached to other people, she to Lexa and Bellamy to Gina.

It was when she'd begun to enjoy her hang time with her best bud Bellamy more than her dates with Lexa that she'd known it was time to break up with her. Bellamy and Gina had broken up shortly thereafter, and while she'd liked Gina - they all had - her overriding thought has been that now he'd be available more often for hanging out. So she'd never actually asked who'd done the breaking up.

It had only been later, when he'd starting dating Echo, that everything had suddenly become crystal clear to Clarke. _Why_ she'd broken up with Lexa. _Why_ she'd been so relieved when Gina had disappeared from Bellamy's life.

 _Why_ Echo's sudden appearance on the scene a few months later had been so hard to swallow.

"So are you willing to do this with me or not?"

It was easy to see that all this was grating on him. That he wasn't going to be able to just... let it go. Clarke mentally girded herself, deciding she'd be able to survive the almost certain heartache of having this conversation with Bellamy. He needed her help and she just couldn't let him down.

"I don't think it's necessary, Bellamy. But if you insist...of course. Fire away."

"Number ten," he intoned, reading from the magazine, " _Is Your Guy Mature or Does He Have Peter Pan Syndrome?"_

Clarke laughed. "I hope Echo didn't try to say you were immature! I mean, you were a semi-parent to Octavia for years even though you're only six years older. And then when your mom died, you delayed college until Octavia was finished..."

"She doesn't know that," he interrupted quietly.

"What?" That brought her up short.

"I said that Echo doesn't know about any of that. I never told her."

"But..." Clarke found herself grasping for words. "But she's your girlfriend! She should know stuff about you."

"She knows stuff, Clarke," Bellamy said, his voice tight, "just not _that_ stuff."

Clarke sighed. "So what did she say about your level of maturity?"

"She said that I seemed somewhat mature - she gave me credit for having a real fucking _job_ \- but then she was suspicious that I'd never had a serious girlfriend. Or a relationship that lasted more than a few months."

"But if you had...well...would you be available to date her?"

He nodded. "Unassailable logic." Bellamy cleared his throat. "Let's move on to the next one. Number nine. _Is Your Guy an Open Book?"_

"Well, she certainly can't have any complaints in that score," Clarke said immediately. "You're painfully upfront about everything."

Bellamy sighed, glancing away. "She brought up a date we had a few weeks ago when I was kind of... texting off and on..."

"So?"

"And... well, I wouldn't tell her who I was texting with."

"Really? Why the hell not? Or... can't you tell me, either?"

"It was you, Clarke! You were having an argument with your mom and you just... needed someone to talk to."

Clarke was appalled. "Jesus, Bellamy! You were on a date that night? Why didn't you say something? We could have talked later. Or-or at least... you could have just told Echo it was me!"

"Yeah, but you needed my help right then, not later. And Echo... if I'd told her... she'd have wanted to know what we were talking about. And it was none of her business! I was protecting your privacy." He paused. "And I don't wanna hear how this was your fault!"

Clarke swallowed, speechless. "Okay," she sad quietly, but she couldn't seem to quash the tendrils of guilt that crept up her spine. "What's next?"

Bellamy flipped the page and continued. "Number eight. _Can You Believe What He Tells You?"_

Clarke was shaking her head before he'd even finished. "You are _not_ going to tell me she accused you of being a liar?"

"Not to her, only of lying to myself."

Clarke frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

He shrugged. "That's all she'd say when I asked. She said... I'd just deny it. So... on to number seven. _Is He Faithful?"_

She scoffed. "You hate cheaters. Echo can't possibly think you'd be one."

"She said...and I quote... that I cheated _in my head._ "

"In... _your_ _head_?"

"Yep, this is when I really started to lose it. I mean, how do I defend myself against "lying to myself" and "cheating in my head"?

She shook her head. "You can't. Number six?"

"Yeah, I figured I had this one knocked. _Does Your Guy Make You Laugh?"_

"Oh." For the first time, Clarke felt a little uncertain, and it must have been obvious to Bellamy because he began to look defensive.

" _What?_ You told me I had a great sense of humor. I make you laugh all the time."

"Um." Her brow wrinkled and she gave him a weak smile. "I think what I said was that _I_ liked your sense of humor. It's a little dry. Sometimes a little... off-beat. Uh...the puns. But I _love_ that stuff."

She sighed.

"Humor is very individual, Bellamy. Just because the two of you don't happen to have the same kind..."

"Never mind," he said frostily, flipping to the next page. "Number five. _Can You Count on Him?"_

By now, Clarke was becoming a little wary. After all, she had no idea if Echo had been able to count on Bellamy. She only knew that _she_ could count on him.

"What did she say about that one?"

"I thought I'd get ahead of the curve with this one so I jumped right in and reminded her that I'd come all the way across town at midnight when her car broke down in a rough neighborhood a few weeks ago, even though I had an early class to teach the next day."

Bellamy finished with an air of triumph as Clarke stilled.

"And what did Echo say to that?" she asked him quietly.

"Hmph! She had the nerve to say she didn't know what the hell I was talking about! She can't possibly have forgotten about that. She just didn't want to admit that I'm dependable."

He shook his head in disbelief.

Clarke sighed. "Uh, Bellamy?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think she forgot. You are dependable, and you did come to someone's rescue that night, but it wasn't Echo's, it was mine."

Bellamy blinked. "Are you sure? I remember being really frantic. Worrying about..." he stared at her suddenly as if a light bulb had suddenly switched on in his memory banks, and said wonderingly. "I guess maybe it _was_ you."

She nodded, her throat working involuntarily. "What have we got left?"

"Uh, number four. _Is He Caring and Supportive?"_

She nodded. "Okay. Did you get that far?"

"We did. And I reminded her about all the times she had family problems and I was happy to listen."

But as he related his point, his voice became a bit hesitant.

"But Echo said...she said she didn't have any family problems. Reminded me that her parents were dead. That things were going well at work. That she didn't have any problems at all that needed... sorting."

His voice trailed off and he glanced over at Clarke uncertainly.

"So am I thinking of...?"

She shrugged and gave him a small crooked smile. "Yeah, that was probably me, too. You've been great about helping me with stuff lately. There were plenty of times... I don't know what I would have done without you there to listen."

Bellamy held her gaze for a moment, brow wrinkling, while Clarke held her breath.

He was so damn close and she couldn't seem to look away.

Then he seemed to shake himself.

"Well," he said determinedly, squaring his shoulders and glaring across the room at the wall, "she can't exactly complain I didn't give her support if she never asked for it."

"No, she can't," Clarke sighed. "What's next?"

Bellamy flicked his eyes down to the magazine. "Uh... number three. _Is He Generous?"_

Clarke smiled. _At last_. "Ding, ding, ding. I think we have a winner! No one could ever accuse you of being a tightwad, Bellamy. In fact, I seem to remember a lot of great places you said you've taken her to. Even...wasn't there a weekend away somewhere?"

Bellamy shrugged. "We never went. Couldn't work out the timing. School restricts when I can take vacation, and even though it was her idea, Echo was never able to...well, now that I think about it, it seemed like it rankled her that she'd have to work around my schedule."

"Oh." Clarke was surprised. What she remembered most about the 'weekend away' was how painful she'd found the idea. How much it had brought home to her just how deep her feelings for Bellamy ran. And how hopeless they were, if he was taking trips with other women...

But they'd never gone after all.

"Anyway, she didn't complain about that kind of generosity. She agreed I took her to nice places. Planned good dates."

Clarke waited. She could hear the _but_ in his voice.

He frowned. "But she said that I was ungenerous with myself."

"With... _yourself?"_

"Yeah. She said I... held myself back from her. That I didn't... let her in."

As he spoke, Clarke could hear his voice rise in frustration.

"Just like _lying to myself_ and _cheating in my head._ And now... I didn't fucking _let her in?"_

Bellamy sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair until it was literally standing on end.

"I guess that's when I really got pissed. Told her no one could make the cut on that stupid list, and that I fucking didn't even really want to try."

Clarke gave him a wry smile. "Well, I can maybe see why she broke up with you."

He huffed out a laugh.

"Yep, by that time, she was more pissed than I was. She grabbed her bag and the magazine and told me to go fuck myself because I sure as hell wouldn't be fucking her again."

Clarke snorted.

Bellamy grinned. "Yeah, it would have been a good exit line, but I guess it wasn't enough for her. She stopped in the doorway and threw the magazine at me. Luckily, she hit me in the chest, not the head. And then she said I should figure out what the hell I wanted."

"Meaning?"

He shrugged. "No idea. But afterwards, I did take another look at that list just to see if I was right. And dammit, Clarke! I'm a good boyfriend. Just maybe... not for her."

"Okay, you're probably right," she said, shrugging, moving to close the magazine that was still splayed across both their laps.

"Wait," Bellamy objected, surprised. "We're not done."

"What? But I thought that was as far as you got with Echo."

"It was. But I want to finish it. Prove to myself that I'm not as bad as she said."

"Doesn't that seem a little...pointless?"

"Not to me it doesn't."

Clarke expelled a silent breath, nodding in acquiescence. She'd already come this far, so she supposed she could probably manage two more.

"Okay, what's next?"

"Number two. _Is He Capable of Devotion?"_

When Bellamy looked at her expectantly, it occurred to her that maybe she wasn't going to be able to do this after all.

"Bellamy, I-I can't _possibly_ answer that question."

"Why not? Look, I just need an opinion here."

"Well, maybe I'm not the one to give it!" she snapped.

Clarke could hear the sharpness in her tone, and knew she sounded harsh. But at that moment, discussing Bellamy's capacity for devotion to his girlfriends was simply...beyond her.

"Maybe you need to ask... somebody else," she offered, her tone as even as possible, trying not to feel like she was letting him down.

Bellamy blinked, nodded. "Okay. Great idea. And I know just who I can ask that won't give me a bullshit answer."

He fished out his phone and Clarke nearly choked when saw him scroll down to Raven's number.

"Are you nuts? It's after midnight and she had a date with Roan. I don't think Raven's gonna wanna take time from her current activities to discuss your boyfriend quotient."

She tried to grab the phone from him, but he was too quick for her.

"Two minutes. That's all I'm gonna ask her for."

Clarke finally gave up, shrugged. "It's your funeral."

"Putting the phone on speaker," he said, "so you can't accuse me later of massaging her response."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "At least tell her I'm listening..." she began, but at that moment Raven answered and Bellamy cocked his head at her and briefly laid a finger across his lips.

" _Blake, you better either be dying or already dead."_

"Neither, Raven. Sorry. I just need an answer to a quick question."

" _Now? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."_

"Yeah, I know. Sorry again. But...I just need your opinion on this one thing." He rushed into his question. "Do you think I'm capable of being devoted to someone? Uh...a woman?"

There was a short pause before Raven's voice crackled over the line.

" _And_ this _is why you called me in the middle of the night? Are you high or something? I didn't think you did that shit, Bellamy."_

He sighed. "I'm not high. I'm just... look, Raven. Can you just answer the question already? I called you because I know you won't bullshit me either way. And the faster you answer, the faster I'll hang up."

They both heard Raven's sigh. " _What was the question again?"_

Clarke watched as he swallowed his impatience and repeated the question.

"Do you think I'm capable of... devotion?"

When several seconds went by, Clarke figured that Raven had decided to take his question seriously, and was weighing her response. She held her breath, unable to imagine what in the hell that response might be.

And then Raven's voice came back on the line.

" _Devotion? I don't know if I've ever seen you devoted."_ Raven paused for a moment before adding, " _Unless, of course, you're talking about Clarke."_

Clarke just managed to hold back her gasp as she stared down at the phone.

"What?" Bellamy's stunned exclamation was quiet, and Clarke found she couldn't quite look at him.

" _Yeah, for a while there, I thought maybe you were serious about Gina, that it would be different with her. But then when you skipped her sister's wedding because you had to go to Clarke's gallery opening, I knew that wasn't happening. Hmmm. Maybe that's why Clarke doesn't have a relationship. She can't find anyone as devoted to her as you are."_

Raven paused.

" _So is that it, Blake? Because I'd really like to get back to the main event here."_

"Yeah," he said softly, and pressed _End_.

For several seconds, neither of them moved or spoke. It was so quiet in the room that for an instant Clarke began to wonder if they were even breathing. As she stared down at her lap, her face heated, she could feel Bellamy's eyes on her

"Clarke..." He finally rasped out her name.

But Clarke had had enough.

"I think you have all the answers you need, Bellamy," she said without moving her head, "and I'm really tired, so..."

When she finally forced herself to turn in his direction, he looked shocked. Never before had she essentially thrown him out.

"Right," he said, his voice tight. "I'll... call you tomorrow."

Clarke nodded, wondering what they could possibly say to one another that would make things feel right again.

She closed the magazine and handed it to him without a word.

She was still sitting there motionless when she heard the door open and then click shut a moment later.

XXXXXXXXXX

After Bellamy left, Clarke had been sure she wouldn't be able to sleep, but that hadn't been the case at all. She was out like a light before she knew what hit her, sunken into a deep, dreamless sleep where she could take refuge from the pain and the embarrassment.

But it was all still there when she woke the next morning, making her blush whenever she remembered exactly how the previous evening had ended.

It was hardly Raven's fault. She'd had no idea that Clarke was sitting right next to Bellamy, and in any case, Raven had probably just been... thinking out loud.

Nevertheless Clarke had felt humiliated.

She knew her feelings for Bellamy probably _had_ affected her desire to date, and it was bad enough to think that Raven had figured that out. She sure as hell had never wanted Bellamy to know.

How was she ever going to be able to face him again without feeling... pathetic?

Yeah, he was great to her. The closest and best friend she'd ever had. But she also knew damn well that for all his support and concern, he didn't feel like... _that_... about her. Because if he had, she told herself, dumping her cereal bowl into the sink and stomping determinedly toward her workroom, he'd had plenty of time to do something about it.

Instead, he'd begun dating Echo.

So, nope, Clarke wasn't planning on going anywhere near Bellamy Blake for a while, no matter how much she might miss him. Instead, her plan was to do exactly what she always did when she was feeling a little off-course, a little... adrift.

 _She was going to retreat. She was going to hunker down. She was going to hide._

Clarke threw on her most comfortable sweats and ripped open her supply closet, having decided that work might be a welcome distraction. But she'd barely gotten started when Bellamy's promised call came through.

She determinedly ignored it. As she did the half dozen that followed at 10-minute intervals. But they invaded her peace of mind and destroyed her focus, leaving her staring dejectedly at a blank canvas. She finally put everything away and retreated to the couch, wrapping herself in a soft quilt.

She'd almost drifted off again when she heard the insistent beep of an arriving text, and she simply couldn't stop herself from reading it.

 _Why arent you answering your phone?_

After that, there was a new one every five minutes.

 _I think we should talk._

 _Are you okay?_

 _Why wont you talk to me?_

 _Clarke cmon._

And then finally: _Im outside in the hallway_.

Before she'd even finished reading it the rapping began. Followed by Bellamy's deep voice, muffled and indistinct through the closed door.

"Are you in there, Clarke? Your car's outside and I'm getting kinda worried."

Fuck! He knew exactly how to get to her. She threw off the quilt and headed for the door, making a valiant effort to compose her features.

As soon as he saw her, Bellamy's face broke into a relieved smile. "Thank god!" he said, looking way too good in his jeans and T-shirt. "I didn't know whether to be more worried about you being sick or something or about me acting like some lunatic stalker."

"Why would you think I was sick?" she said, shrugging lightly, not quite meeting his eyes. And trying not to hate herself for making him worry. "I was just... painting. Didn't want to interrupt the flow."

Bellamy squinted at her, his lips twisting in amusement as his eyes swept over her..

"Painting, huh? You know you look pretty clean to me. I can't remember the last time you didn't get more paint on yourself than on the canvas."

Clarke huffed and marched back into the room, hoping he'd put her flushed cheeks down to annoyance. Bellamy followed, and when she curled back into her corner of the couch, he sat down next to her.

Much too close for Clarke's comfort.

Her mind was a jumble. She'd been so certain he'd be sensitive enough to give her a few days to pull herself together. To stop feeling like an idiot. Yet here he was on her doorstep, rubbing her face in it.

"What do you want, Bellamy?"

He looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

"What do I want? Well, first of all, I want to know why the hell you've been avoiding me all morning."

Clarke tried to dredge up a little anger at him for forcing the issue, because anger was always easier than humiliation, but it didn't seem to be working.

And suddenly, she was fed up with pretending. She'd never been very good at it.

"Maybe I was just too stupidly embarrassed after what Raven said last night to want to face you today," she told him honestly, feeling herself flush.

His brow wrinkled in confusion.

"What the fuck have _you_ got to be embarrassed about? I'm the one who's been such a colossal moron about... everything."

Clarke gaped at him. _What the hell was he talking about?_

"But Raven said... that you... that I..." She fumbled around, trying to recall exactly what it was that Raven _had_ said. She'd been so fixated on _Clarke isn't dating because of you, Bellamy_ that maybe she'd... missed something. Something important.

And Bellamy seemed so sure about it all.

"It was me she was calling out, Clarke. I asked for a no-bullshit answer... and she gave me one. In spades."

"Okay," she said carefully, "so you're here today...?"

"I came over so we could finish the list."

"The _list?_ But we did finish it. Or... close enough."

But he was shaking his head.

Bellamy hadn't brought the whole magazine this time, he'd just ripped out the relevant pages. He pulled them now from his jacket pocket, carefully unfolding them and spreading them onto the few inches of couch that lay between them.

"We never got to Number One," he said, and for once Clarke couldn't seem to read his tone at all.

"Number One?"

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, and picked up the creased page. " _Number One. Does He Get You?"_

Clarke was at a loss, but it didn't matter, because this time he wasn't looking for her input

"I can't believe I didn't figure it out a long time ago," he said earnestly. "Or at least when I was here last night. Echo gave me enough clues. And then Raven." He huffed and shook his head, as though appalled by his own stupidity.

By now, Clarke was bundle of nerves, twisting her hands together in her lap as she waited for Bellamy to get to the damn point. He grabbed onto them, pulling at her fingers until he was tightly holding both her hands in his much larger ones. As he looked at her, his smile was so fond that Clarke could feel her breathing become irregular and her heartbeat speed to a gallop.

"I couldn't sleep, so I finally grabbed the magazine and went over the stupid list again, trying to figure out how I could have gotten everything so wrong. And that's when I remembered I'd never actually looked at number one. And when I did...everything just sort of fell into place."

Bellamy sighed, his face softening as he spoke, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Because Echo would have been right about number one. I didn't really get her. Or Bree. Or Gina. Or any of the rest. I don't think I even tried. I'm pretty sure there's only ever been one person I really got."

Clarke held her breath as she watched Bellamy's throat working.

"Just like there's only one person I worry about, and want to be around all the time. One person I never get sick of, and miss like hell when I don't get to see her for a couple days."

He sighed then and looked at her with such heated affection that she thought she might burst into flames.

"C'mon, Clarke," he said, his voice quiet in the still room, "you know damn well I'm talking about you."

She exhaled slowly and felt small bubbles of happiness bursting inside her. But still, she needed some answers.

"Then why? Why, when we were both finally single, did you start dating Echo? If I was the one you...got."

He huffed in frustration. "Because I'm an idiot. Because it stupidly never entered my head that my best friend, the person I... liked most in the world, could ever be my girlfriend. Girlfriends were great, but in my experience they weren't... permanent. They came and they went. But my best friend... I wanted her to stick around forever."

"Bellamy," she said, a soft sweet jolt of affection stabbing at her unexpectedly, "girlfriends can stick around forever, too, if you want them to. If the right... feelings are there."

"Yeah," he said, smiling the crooked half-smile she loved, "I finally figured that out about 4 o'clock this morning. It took a lot of willpower to wait until ten to call you."

Clarke gave him a small teasing smile. "I'm not sure what I would have said to you if you woke me up at 4am."

His sweet smile faltered just a little.

"So what are you saying to me now, Clarke? Please don't tell me it's too late. That I finally got my head out of my ass but you're so pissed you won't even give me a chance."

Her smile widened. "Give you a chance? Bellamy, I've had my head out of my ass for months now. I was just waiting for you to catch up."

He grinned in relief. "Thank god. So, what now?"

Clarke smirked up at him. "Uh... do you think you might want to kiss me?"

Bellamy laughed, grabbing her by the waist, lifting her onto his lap, pulling her head down. The slide of his lips across her own was soft and easy at first, almost... tentative, but the kiss deepened almost immediately. And soon she was lying fully atop him, bodies writhing, hands grasping, the kiss turning hot and wet and wanton.

Clarke never wanted it to stop, this kissing with Bellamy. If only she hadn't needed to breathe.

"I want you so much," he whispered in her ear, stroking her body as they came up for air.

"Yeah?" she said, leaning in to kiss him again. "Well, you've got me."

XXXXXXXXXX

A few months later, the editorial staff at _Elle_ magazine received the following letter.

To the Editors:

I am writing to thank you for the article you published several editions back entitled _Making the Grade: A Quick Guide to Figuring Out if Your Guy is a Great Boyfriend._ I failed miserably at everything on your list and my former girlfriend broke up with me.

Nevertheless, I found it very enlightening and am extremely grateful.

Sincerely yours,

Bellamy Blake

P.S. My current girlfriend says she don't need no stinkin' list.


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